


Ticklish

by bookwyrmling



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 02:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11864745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwyrmling/pseuds/bookwyrmling
Summary: “Buchou, are you ticklish?”





	Ticklish

Tezuka and Ryoma are sitting together in Ryoma’s room, sprawled out on his bed with their backs leaning against the wall. It’s raining outside because a typhoon changed course on the one day this month they were able to schedule time to play. Tezuka is wearing some of Nanjiroh’s clothes and both boys still have towels around their shoulders because both Ryoma and Tezuka thought they would still be able to fit a game in before the storm started. They hadn’t.

Off the tennis court, the two share a smaller range of shared interests, so while Tezuka is reading a book he keeps in his bag for when he’s stuck on transit, Ryoma is channel surfing. The channel changes once again and a scene from a drama plays out with a boy reaching over to tickle a girl in jest.  Ryoma watches for a moment in curiosity as the girl squeals in laughter—her voice is harsh and high pitched and Ryoma flinches—and the boy seems completely awestruck until he leans in, kisses her and confesses his feelings.

Ryoma changes the channel to some lifestyle show, but out of curiosity turns to Tezuka and asks, “Buchou, are you ticklish?”

Tezuka turns a confused face to the screen before directing it at Ryoma. “No,” he says, because Tezuka is not ticklish.  He cannot remember laughing over being tickled since he was young enough for kindergarten and still wore his yellow hat and backpack.  His mother would chase and tickle him in the backyard then—both making sure they avoided his grandfather’s koi pond—and Tezuka would screech in laughter when the woman finally caught him.  Even then, Tezuka could not say if he’d actually been ticklish or just been childishly over-excited while playing with his mother.  Either way, he certainly isn’t ticklish NOW.

Ryoma hums at the monosyllabic answer, but says no more and Tezuka returns to his book, believing the topic has been closed, only to have a finger jab itself into his side.  Tezuka yelps and nearly throws his book off his lap as his entire body tenses, his eyes widening in shock as he turns to see Echizen smirking a challenge at him.

“Not ticklish, hmmm?”  The smirk grows, Ryoma’s golden eyes glow and Tezuka has just enough time for his breath to catch before he is pounced on, the book falling from his hands and to the floor, abandoned for self-defense as Ryoma’s fingers attack his sides.

Tezuka should be able to stop him.  While he never went too far with it, Tezuka did study some basic judo under his grandfather while growing up; back before tennis took over his life.  And yet, whether it’s the tickling, the lack of oxygen from the laughing or because he really doesn’t mind, all Tezuka seems capable of doing is smacking at his hands and twisting beneath him and Ryoma never wants to stop tickling Tezuka ever.

Ryoma is absolutely certain that Tezuka’s laughter is the most beautiful sound he has ever heard.  It reaches straight through his chest, wraps around his heart and tightens until he can’t breathe.  The way his mouth is thrown open wide in objections and pleas and guffaws forces his eyes shut and Ryoma catches sight of a tear squeezing past scrunched eyelids and his forehead convulses so that sometimes it is high and smooth and other times his brow is scrunched and the lines between his eyes deepen like an old man’s. The way his glasses sit skewed on one side of his nose and his carefully styled hair is all a mess and his face is red and his eyes are shut and he’s gasping for air and suddenly it does not matter at all that the scene on the television had seemed stilted and manufactured because Tezuka is both a mess and a vision and he suddenly GETS it.  So Ryoma follows the script, leaning down, his fingers playing at the seams along the side of Tezuka’s shirt. He loses the ability to breathe when Tezuka’s eyes open and meet his and widen because Tezuka suddenly understands, as well, where this is going.

Tezuka should be able to stop him.  And yet, whether it’s exhaustion from the laughing, the lack of oxygen from Echizen’s lips pressed firmly against his or because he really doesn’t mind, all Tezuka seems capable of doing is fisting hands into Ryoma’s shirt and kissing him back and Ryoma decides then and there that, even more than tickling, he never wants to stop kissing Tezuka ever.

Tezuka cannot help but agree.


End file.
